Things Worth Falling For
by I Took the One Less Travelled
Summary: Sequel to Where We Start From. Dean and Sam are where they're supposed to be, but what do they do now? S5 AU, Dean/Cas.


As always, it was hardest to tell who he was when he first woke up. Sleep was an utterly human action, belonging entirely to Dean Winchester. Even now that Michael and Dean Winchester were one and the same, it was somewhat beyond Michael's comprehension. Dean knew about sleep, or at least knew that he liked the feeling, liked the peace and quiet of it.

Waking, though, was just as much Michael as it was Dean. Before they merged fully, became who they were, archangel and true vessel were their closest to separate as awareness slowly crept in. Michael disliked sleep, or at least the sensation of losing his location and the vulnerability. Dean, though, enjoyed everything about it, now that his nightmares of hell were a thing of the past.

The part that was Dean snuggled closer to Castiel's form, buried his nose in the back of his neck, where skin met perpetually messy black hair. Castiel, for his part, did not have a human soul lodged so deeply into his Grace that he didn't know where one ended and the other began, and felt no such compulsion to sleep. Castiel laid in Dean's arms when Dean wanted something to cuddle with.

Michael's desire to wake finally won against Dean's want for more sleep, and he pushed himself up onto his hands, looking down at Castiel's piercing blue eyes. "Morning, Cas," he said, voice rough.

"Good morning, Dean."

He smiled, and dipped to press an almost-chaste kiss to Cas' lips. "I wanna fuck you, but we gotta get up."

"Michael," Cas started plaintively. It had been already worked out that Michael was the responsible entity in this relationship.

"No, Cas," Michael said sternly. "I have things to do. I have to drag Gabriel's ass back to heaven to actually do his job—I need his backup if I'm going to talk to Raphael. Besides, Gabriel's been on vacation long enough."

Cas surged upward to wrap his hand around the back of Dean's neck, dragging his lips down for a kiss that wasn't anywhere near as chaste as the first had been.

...

Sam didn't have the same problem as Dean. Lucifer was a hedonist, and enjoyed the sensation of sleep too much to argue about sleeping. As a result, archangel and vessel were united in sleep and in waking, and Sam didn't feel the confusion that Dean had complained of upon waking.

What he _did_ feel, was profound irritation at the sound of his brother's headboard smacking against the wall in a steady rhythm. Dean and Cas just couldn't damn well give it a rest, could they?

It had been far too long since Sam had gotten laid, and he didn't even count some of those last encounters with Ruby, given how focused he'd been on the demon blood and how unfocused he'd been on anything else, including her lips wrapped around his dick.

Those lips had been awfully nice, though. Sam contemplated raising her from the dead for a moment, before ultimately dismissing it as an idea to be addressed further later on. As Sam, he still had issues with Ruby, even though she'd ultimately been working towards this ultimate goal. Still though, since she was basically the only intelligent minion that Lucifer possessed, other than Meg (who had a nasty temper) and Crowley (who was about as loyal as your average cockroach), he knew that he'd probably have to drag her black, twisted demon soul back to the land of the living eventually.

Of course, there was Azazel. Azazel was intelligent and powerful. But ultimately, he was too much _Sam_ to ever contemplate bringing the being that had killed his mother, had a direct hand in his father's death and had basically ruined his entire childhood back from the dead. His other lieutenant, Lilith, had been killed beyond even _his_ ability to undo, and he appreciated her sacrifice in destroying the final seal.

And Sam felt too personally about what Alastair had done to Dean (and Lucifer over what Alastair had done to Michael's vessel) to bring him back. It didn't leave him a whole lot of options, and so very many demons were too stupid to be allowed to live. So whether he decided that he wanted Ruby's mouth wrapped around his dick or not, he probably needed to bring her back to life.

Rolling his eyes, Sam glared at the thin wall separating his and Dean's rooms, and stumbled into the hallway and down the stairs. Gabriel and Meg were sitting at opposite sides of the kitchen table, glaring holes into each other's skulls. Jo was hiding a smile as she flipped an omelette at the stove, and Sam could hear Bobby and Ellen talking as they researched in the living room.

"Lucifer," Meg greeted him.

"Hey, Luci!" Sam smacked Gabriel on the back of the head as he walked in, and hauled the fridge open.

"Sam, your archangel and your demon are fighting again," Jo pointed out dryly.

"I noticed, thanks, Jo," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

"Anytime," Jo said, flipping her omelette onto a plate and dropping the pan into the sink, weaving around the chairs and the piercing power of Gabriel and Meg's glares, in the direction of whatever her mother and Bobby were doing.

"Meg," Sam snapped sharply, an order from a commanding officer to a soldier. Meg's glare dropped immediately. Sam grabbed the orange juice from the fridge. "Gabe, quit it," this time an older brother telling his younger to stop being a pest, a tone that Sam found unnerving escaping from his lips. It had always been Dean using that tone on him.

"Boring," Gabriel sang. "I'm going to go and bother Jo—she's so entertaining."

Sam could see the warning signs. Gabriel liked girls. Jo was gorgeous. She was a hunter—which meant that she was just a little bit dangerous, and unlikely to take Gabriel's shit lying down without trying to cram a wooden stake into his chest; regardless of whether it would actually kill him or not. In fact, knowing that it wouldn't kill him made Jo even more likely to do it.

They were either a match decreed by the cupids, or they were going to burn Bobby's house down. Sam wasn't sure which would be more entertaining, but either way, his days of being the voice of reason had disappeared when he melded his soul to the devil's Grace.

Instead, he took a swig of the orange juice straight out of the carton. He was the only occupant of the house that had ever cared about things like that, and now that he was an angel and immune to germs, he could no longer be bothered to find a glass.

"So what's going on with Pestilence?" He asked Meg as he took a seat at the table. Meg eyed his orange juice with barely veiled disgust.

"We have to find him. He's smarter than we gave him credit for—as soon as he figured out that you were being all... you, he jumped ship."

"So how are you looking?"

Meg snorted. "Following the sickness trail. Death?"

"Death ran off as soon as I released him from the binding," Sam said. "Death isn't interested in petty, single-minded things like the end of the world. He was only helping because I was forcing him. He didn't seem to care that I'd bound him, either."

"So Death isn't going to be a problem," Meg inferred.

"No, I don't think so," Sam agreed.

They both looked up at the sudden banging noises from the next room. Then Jo stalked back into the kitchen. "Gabriel," she snapped.

"They're going to burn Bobby's house down," Sam decided aloud, as Gabriel trailed into the kitchen after Jo.

"Yeah, and it's fricken hilarious," Meg laughed. "I don't know why I killed little Jo-Jo, she's much more entertaining alive. And your brother's about the furthest thing from angelic that he could possibly be."

"Which one," Sam muttered grumpily. Dean and Cas going at it was getting _old_. Maybe once upon a time he had been interested in ending the UST, but he was finding that the RST was actually just as annoying.

Meg barked out a short laugh. "Think you just need to get laid, boss."

"Yes, thank you, figured that out for myself."

Meg's expression turned calculating, but Sam could see the danger. "Don't even think about it. I can find my own girl."

"I would _never_," Meg sassed him, pressing one hand to her heart with perfectly wounded innocence—an expression that was laughable on a demon. He and Meg (his highest ranking lieutenant, really) got along surprisingly well, considering their history. Once Meg had stopped being a sycophant (because Lucifer had wanted sycophants, but SamandLucifer as an entity found sycophancy to be dull and uninspired), her somewhat twisted sense of humor appealed to his dark side. In fact, he might even call Meg almost a _friend_.

Hey, if Michael got to sleep with the rank and file and Gabriel was allowed to seduce hunter girls who were liable to try to remove his small intestine, he could be friends with a demon. As it was, he pitied Cas and Jo for having to deal with his brothers. Not that Cas seemed to mind.

Dean chose that moment to stumble into the kitchen half dressed, Cas on his heels and wearing his usual disarrayed suit. His tie looked like someone had tried to strangle him with it and his trench coat was sitting funny on his shoulders, and if you were familiar with his perpetual sex hair, you'd never realize that he'd gotten laid less than five minutes ago. In contrast, Dean's hair was an absolute disaster and his neck and chest were littered with love bites that he'd obviously chosen not to allow to heal.

"Breakfast?" Dean asked Jo hopefully.

Jo snorted. "Make your own, pretty boy."

Dean turned a devastating pout in Jo's direction, the look that Sam had seen melt many-a-girl's panties right off for many, many years. Jo rolled her eyes, unmoved. "Thought you could materialize stuff now?" Sam detected just a hint of unease in her tone, and couldn't blame her. She'd died in an abandoned hardware store with hellhounds at the door, had her soul dragged to hell (because that was what happened to people who were killed by hellhounds), knowing that the Winchesters were going to try to kill the devil. She'd been brought back to the sight of both Winchesters standing over her coffin, to discover that they'd let their respective archangels in, the apocalypse was cancelled, Dean was banging Cas and the demon who'd ordered her death was now on their side. (well, technically, _all_ demons were now on their side, but Meg actually spent a significant amount of time at the house)

Bringing back Ellen and Jo had been an easy decision—there were other people who mattered, yes, but not ones in hell, and to get a soul out of heaven, you had to go into the actual Gates and fetch it. Sam, of course, had yet to be allowed back in heaven, Gabriel was uninterested in visiting home, and Dean didn't want Zachariah and Raphael to know what had actually happened until he had a plan ready. Besides, getting people out of hell was much more urgent than getting them out of heaven—the brothers were mostly in agreement that they planned to leave their parents and Ash and Pamela and everyone where they were—at peace. They could visit now, and all of those people's lives were done.

So yes, Jo had reason to be a bit uneasy about the whole thing. She'd handled it remarkably well so far. Even the part where a debauched archangel turned brutal pagan trickster god was trying to get her into bed.

"Well yeah," Dean said. "But it's not the same!"

"Quit whining," Sam sighed. "Make yourself breakfast, or materialize something. I don't care. But apparently Pestilence is still on the move."

"I'm heading up to bother Raph today," Dean said glumly. Then he perked up and tilted his head. "Hey Jo, up for a field trip?"

"To heaven?" Jo said skeptically. "Don't I have to _die_ to go to heaven?"

"Well yeah," Dean shrugged. "Don't see why it matters. Just stick with me so I can bring you back again, obviously. Make sure you're lying straight on the couch, or else you'll come back with a back ache."

"Wow, that sounds like an incredibly stupid idea!" Jo said pointedly. Meg snickered, Gabriel snorted and Sam rolled his eyes.

"You can visit Ash," Dean offered.

"Yeah, okay." Jo agreed instantly.

Sam glared from Dean to Jo, having traumatic flashbacks of the hunts that Jo had sneaked out of the Roadhouse to join them on, where he had ended up having to play mediating influence to both Jo and Dean, instead of just Dean.

"I guess I should go, too," Gabriel sighed.

"You've been on vacation long enough, anyway," Dean pointed out, waving a hand and materializing a plate of French Toast and sausages. That done, he settled at the table to cram food into his mouth like he was starving.

"You guys are going on a field trip to heaven?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Well Cas can't come with us," Dean shrugged, mouth full of French toast. Meg made a disgusted sound and reached forward to snatch Dean's fork and knife out of his hands, and proceeded to cut up the sugar dusted bread for him like he was a child that couldn't be allowed to handle a butter knife. Given what Dean did for a living, this notion was laughable, though Dean didn't stop her.

"One bite at a time, Winchester," Meg snapped, handing Dean's cutlery back. "Why can't you go to heaven, Clarence?"

"Michael restored my Grace, but Raphael is still running a militia in heaven," Castiel explained, opening his mouth dutifully, and taking the offered bite of French toast from Dean's fork when it was waved in his face. Unlike Dean, who had clearly never been taught not to talk with food in his mouth, Cas chewed and swallowed before continuing. "If I enter heaven, Raphael will no doubt attempt to smite me again."

"I'll kill him," Sam snapped, Lucifer's temper shining through. He loved Raph. Really. But from Michael's stories of the person that he'd become, Sam would side with Castiel—the little angel that could, the one that had rescued his brother from hell—over Raphael the whole way, if it came to that.

"Woah, tiger," Dean's tone was as likely to calm Sam down as dumping kerosene onto a fire was to put it out. "Hope it doesn't come to that."

"It won't," Gabriel said confidently. "Raph'll listen to you, Mikey."

"It's been awhile, Gabe," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"So let me get this straight," Meg said, sounding delighted. "You two precious little archangels and baby Jo-Jo are going to heaven for the day, and you're leaving Clarence alone here with _us_." She tossed Sam a suggestive, heavy-lidded look.

"Take him to strip club, Sammy," Dean ordered, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he got to his feet. "That's what you guys do, right? Corrupt?"

Sam glared at the ceiling. Clearly, Father wasn't over the whole 'rebellion' thing. So, instead of hitting leads on Pestilence like they _should be_ (whatever, he had demon minions for that, anyway), Sam consigned himself to finding a strip club and spending his evening in it with his brother's significant other and the demon that had helped kill his Dad. _Great_.

…

Ellen hovered uncertainly in the background as Jo settled down onto the couch. Cas had one hand on Ellen's shoulder, somehow providing comfort that she'd never accept from either of the Winchesters or Bobby. Bobby himself was still going through various texts at the desk, more than used to the insanity that his boys produced, and Sam loomed against the archway to the front walk, leaning against it with easy grace that he'd only picked up as Lucifer.

Lucifer had been as good for Sam as Sam had been for him. Sam no longer hunched over, uncomfortable with his height and trying to hide it. It wasn't that he tried to _hide_ his intimidating size, per-say, just was no longer driven to try to disguise his own existence. Dean glanced at his baby brother with pride, standing at Jo's feet.

Meg sidled into the room on light feet, dodging handily around the devil's trap painted on the ceiling just past the doorway, settling behind his brother and to the left.

"Ready?" Gabriel asked with a hand raised towards Jo. Clearly, since Jo had asked Gabriel to do this, their little flirting had progressed further than Dean had thought.

"Not going to hurt, is it?" Jo asked, glancing up at Gabe. To anyone except for those in this room, her tone would have sounded entirely unaffected by what was about to happen. Dean, though, could detect a faint note of apprehension in her words.

"Honey, I can make death feel like an orgasm," Gabriel drawled, winking.

Jo laughed. "My mom's right there," she pointed out.

"That's why I'm not gonna do it _here_," Gabriel said, smirking. "Still, though, I'll make going to sleep peaceful."

Jo's eyes held Gabriel's for just a moment, and she was obviously satisfied by what she found there, because she nodded firmly. "Do it." Gabriel's hand darted forward, quick as lightning, and his fingers brushed against Jo's forehead with a gentleness that Michael had never quite associated with his youngest brother.

That was when it struck him in the head that maybe this was more than just flirting, and Dean now had to contemplate the dilemma of which one to threaten—his baby brother, or sort-of adoptive sister.

Jo collapsed bonelessly into the sofa, and Dean glanced up to see the reaper appearing as Jo's soul took form.

"Tessa," he greeted with a smirk.

Tessa rolled her eyes at him. "Hello, Sam." She nodded at his brother, and Sam nodded back.

"Hey!" Dean whined.

"Do you guys know each other?" Jo wanted to know.

"Yeah, Tessa and I go _way_ back," Dean said.

"This one gets himself killed too much," Tessa responded succinctly. "I'm not here for him, though. They just sent me because I've met them, and all of the others are afraid of them now that they're archs."

"It's fine, Tessa," Dean said. "I've got her."

"Hey!" Gabriel hacked his way into the conversation in his typical fashion.

"This would be Loki, then?" Tessa asked.

"This would be Loki," Sam agreed. "Hey, good luck with Raph. And tell Ash I said hey."

Tessa held her hand out to Jo, who reached over to take it, and then they were gone. Dean and Gabriel nodded sharply at each other, and took flight towards home. Because they were purposefully following Tessa's trail, they slammed into Jo's heaven instead of the front gates, also having the added positive effect of having the angels unaware of their presence.

Jo's first pocket was of the blonde sitting beside a young version of Bill Harvelle, watching diligently as her father cleaned his guns in office of the Roadhouse. She glanced up as Dean and Gabriel made a less-than-graceful entrance.

"Hey, guys."

"Jo," Dean nodded, glancing at Bill's monologue about how taking care of the guns was just as important as the shooting part.

"I always watched Dad clean his weapons after a hunt," Jo explained, standing up to move away from the ghost of her father. "I felt so close to him then."

Wordlessly, Dean held out one hand to Jo, offering comfort the only way that he knew how. Gabriel was silent beside him, utterly unable to connect with the humanity in this moment.

"I miss him," Jo said.

"I know," Dean said, drawing her in, wrapping his arms around her and enfolding her against his body. "We can visit him later, if you want."

"I'd like that. But only if you find your parents, too."

Dean made a face. Of _course_ he wanted to see his parents, but he didn't really want to know what his Dad would say about him and Sam, and their life choices. He didn't want to think about what his mom would say about the hunting. He didn't want to deal with the fact that he wasn't just Dean, but Michael, now—and he wasn't sure how he felt about his parents anymore.

"Just because you're an emotionally constipated moron doesn't mean that you don't want to give your mom a hug," Jo said knowingly.

And there was also that.

Gabriel busted a hole through the part of heaven where human souls resided, and the three of them stepped into the angel side of the operation. Of course, the two archangels were the brightest Grace-lights in the entire place, and it would be impossible to conceal their presence for long, especially considering how long Gabriel had been gone. They both wordlessly extended their Graces to envelope Jo's soul between them, surrounding her with Grace so that she wouldn't be detected.

"Michael. You've returned."

Raphael's form was… stiff, somehow. Dean sighed. "Yeah, Raph, I'm back. Look who I found!"

Raphael's gaze turned to Gabriel, who gave him a ridiculous grin and waggled his fingers. "Heya, bro!"

"Gabriel." To an outside observer, Raphael's tone would have sounded utterly emotionless, but Dean (and Gabriel) could hear the undertones of relief, of pain, of desperation and hurt and abandonment.

"Maybe we should go someplace more private?" Dean suggested, eyeing his younger brothers. With everything that Raphael was feeling over the situation, Dean wouldn't be surprised if he started throwing things at Gabriel (not that Gabriel didn't deserve it, for numerous reasons), and he would much rather not be around the rank and file when something so undignified inevitably happened.

"Maybe you should leave your pet human out here," Raphael sneered.

Of course he had noticed Jo. He was too meticulous not to.

Dean and Gabriel simultaneously opened their mouths to defend her, only to be shut down when Jo stepped out from between them. "I'm sorry, _what_ did you just call me?"

Raphael gave Jo a look that made Dean think of a scientist examining a bug under a microscope—interested, but detached and emotionless.

"My _name_ is Joanna Beth Harvelle. My father was a hunter, but he died on a hunt with John Winchester when I was four. My mom ran a bar for hunters, but she never approved of hunting, and she never wanted me to do it. I wanted to do it anyway, because it made me feel closer to dad. I died when Dean and Sam brought me to Carthage to try and kill Lucifer, and I did it because it was important, and it was the right thing to do and because I could help protect people who couldn't protect themselves. Hellhounds killed me, and dragged my soul to hell. I was there for ten years, and it was _worth it_, because I helped people. And I'll thank you not to ever call me a _pet_ again, or insult humanity when they're the ones fighting your war—dying for your war— while you cower up here."

Dean smirked. "Couldn't have said it better myself." He slung his arm around Jo's shoulder.

"Stop flirting, Winchester, you're taken," Jo pointed out, shoving him off.

"I'm not taken, can I flirt?" Gabriel stepped up, and Dean chose to ignore the fact that Jo nestled closer to him, not willing to deal with the 'who do I threaten' issue yet.

"Michael," Zachariah announced his presence, and Dean made a face.

"That's what I wanted to hide from."

"Michael, why would you—"

"You absolutely disgusting piece of flea-bag, the only reason that I'm not smiting you right this second is because Sammy wants to help."

"Michael—"

"_The thing_," Dean interrupted. "About the true vessel of an archangel is that the soul and Grace are so similar that they don't disappear, just… merge. Which _means_, douchenozzle, that I'm both Dean Winchester _and_ Michael, and in this case, both are pissed off about what you did to me and Sammy. I _told you_ to communicate with my true vessel. I told you to explain about the apocalypse. I did not ever utter the words 'threaten him and the people that he loves' or any variation thereof. And also, after what you did to Cas' brain, I'm going to have to kill you."

"Aww, look at you defending your boyfriend!" Jo squealed. "That's so adorable. Sam will be proud of how well-adjusted you are!"

"Jo, quit undermining my authority."

"It's pretty adorable, Mikey," Gabriel drawled, arm still tucked securely around Jo's shoulder.

"Gabriel, I told you. Don't call me Mikey, and don't call Sam Luci," Dean snapped grumpily. He stomped towards a stunned Raphael and took him by the arm, starting towards the main part of the 'throne room'. Raphael didn't put up so any resistance. "Gabriel!" Dean hollered.

"Coming, bro!"

…

Meg was busy paying for a lap dance for Cas. Cas himself was sitting stiffly at a table, ignoring the girls wearing skimpy lingerie and dancing on poles, and Sam was perfectly happy to bang his head on the table, especially when Meg returned with two strippers instead of one.

"Meg, what did I say?"

"You said not to find you a girlfriend," Meg said. "You didn't say anything about strippers, lap dances, or possible lays. I am an awesome wing-woman, and also, you need to relieve tension."

"You possessed me once," Sam pointed out.

"And now, I'm providing you with a one-night stand!"

The stripper cleared her throat.

"What? Are you telling me that you won't hit that?" Meg asked her triumphantly. "I mean, the angel's taken, and also incredibly socially awkward, so I wouldn't recommend it—the morning after would be awful. Threesome with his boyfriend, maybe, but not alone."

"Sorry, I thought that _you_ were working on that one," Sam pointed out, slumping back into his chair and resigning himself to an embarrassing spectacle that would probably give him a boner because he was only… well, not human, exactly, but had the libido of one.

"Oh, I am," Meg said cheerfully. "But I'm practicing the long game—if Dean wants to teach his angel how to eat a girl out, then that's only a benefit for me."

"I don't need to hear this," Sam announced.

Cas's head tilted. "I've yet to see anything from you that indicates romantic intentions."

"That's because you're easy. You'll agree to anything that Dean will, and I can work on you _then_. I have to get Dean first in order to end up between you in bed," Meg said cheerfully, flopping down. Everyone was ignoring the astonished strippers, who were clearly too out-of-their depth to actually strip. "Once I get him to see past the whole demon thing, it should be simple—he's been attracted to me since at least the shadow monster."

"_Still_ don't need to hear this! And also, that was not sexy bondage, Meg, can't you tell the difference?"

"All bondage is sexy if you know what you're doing."

"Please stop," Sam moaned. "It's bad enough that I have to hear it between _them_."

That was when the stripper got into his lap, and Sam immediately started trying to pray to his absentee Father.

…

"This is getting out of hand, Raph," Dean paced the length of the throne room with a restless energy that he knew that Raphael had been surprised to see. Before he had gotten his vessel, his energy had been waning by the day. He was tired of the Host not listening to him, and tired of everyone who seemed enthusiastic about the world ending and him killing his brother.

"I do not feel comfortable discussing this in front of the human," Raphael pointed out.

"Jo is family," Dean snapped. "So you're gonna have to get used to it. Jo, and Bobby, and Ellen and you're going to have to forgive Sammy. And you'll have be nice to Cas, and apologize for smiting him. Also, Meg isn't so bad, and neither is Crowley and I think that Sam's contemplating raising Ruby from the dead—maybe we shouldn't have been so hasty about killing her, because she's one of the only intelligent minions that he's got—so seriously, Raph, pull your head out of your ass."

"No, it's fine," Jo interrupted. "Dean, considering how emotionally fucked up you are, I appreciate you saying that—since I know what family means to you—but this is between you guys, and he shouldn't have to be uncomfortable because he doesn't know me and has no reason to trust me."

Dean met her eyes for a long moment before nodding. "Gabe, you want to take her to Ash's heaven and meet back here?"

"Yeah—"

"And no drinking, and no detours," he interrupted. "Jo, I think you're going to like Ash's heaven."

"It's the Roadhouse, isn't it?" Jo asked.

"Damnit, that was supposed to be a surprise!"

Jo laughed, and took Gabriel's arm as he pulled her out of the room.

"Lucifer," Raphael started.

"Lucifer is… difficult, but he wasn't _born_ evil, Raph. He's our brother. I love him, and Gabe loves him and I _know_ that deep down inside there, you love him too. He's given up on the apocalypse. We're not fighting, either of us."

"But—"

"Well, he might just start a fight over how loud Cas and I are, but that's a different issue entirely."

"He disobeyed," Raphael said sternly. "We are not to disobey."

"Funny, that," Dean said snorting. "We've always thought that we _couldn't_. That we weren't wired that way. But Lucifer managed it. Have you ever wondered why that is? What's so special about Lucifer, that he has the free will necessary to disobey and the rest of us didn't?"

Raphael opened his mouth, and then shut it again.

"There it is. That's what makes us so different from humans, right? Free will, that they have the choice to disobey and we don't. That's what makes Father love them more than us. When they love Him, it's because they _chose_ to. And yet… Lucifer, Lucifer clearly has free will. Or," Dean cocked his head, and pulled up the argument that Gabriel had first used on Lucifer when he was still insistent on destroying the world. "Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he was _created_ to disobey, maybe he wasn't disobeying at all."

"But—"

"If Father created Lucifer to disobey, to Fall, to give the humans another choice, then where does that leave us?"

"You've changed, Michael. I always knew that it might affect you, but I never dreamed this much."

"Have I? Even before I found my vessel, I never had any intention of fighting Lucifer, not unless I had to. Not unless he forced my hand. And I answer to Dean as much as to Michael now, and probably always will. My understanding is that Gabriel stopped going by his vessel's name when people stopped being alive to remember him, but Sam will always be around, and he'll always be Sam to me as much as Lucifer, just as I'll always be Dean to him as much as Michael."

"Why not?" Raphael demanded, looking utterly lost. "Why not fight him? It is written."

"Because, firstly, it _clearly_ isn't what Father actually wants, and it doesn't take a genius to see that. But mostly, Raphael, because he's my brother and I love him, and it broke me badly enough when I forced him into the Cage. I never had the strength to do it again, let alone actually kill him this time. Either Lucifer truly had free will and choices, which means that I have to believe that the rest of us do too—and I can _choose_ not to fight him if I so wish—or Lucifer was created to disobey, which means that he doesn't deserve to be punished for it, and it would never have been Father's wish that I do so."

"Lucifer always claimed that love had made him disobey."

"Maybe love is the only thing strong enough to allow us to disobey, then. It fits, actually. Lucifer disobeyed because he loved Father, I disobeyed because I loved Lucifer, Castiel disobeyed because he loved me and Sam, Gabriel eventually got the strength to leave because he couldn't watch us fight anymore—he loved us too much, and then he managed to stay away because he loved humans. And not like most of the Host love them, either. Or even Father, for that matter. If you could _feel_, Raphael, what I feel now. What I feel for Sam, what that makes me feel for Lucifer. For Gabriel and you and Jo and Ellen and Bobby. And Cas, obviously, but I feel differently for Cas than I do for the rest of you."

"I _really _hope so, bro, because otherwise I'd say I'm flattered, but no."

"Shut up, Gabriel."

"Is that true, Gabriel?" Raphael's brow furrowed, and he advanced on their brother entering the room. "Did you leave out of love?"

Gabriel loosed a bitter laugh. "I left for a lot of reasons, Raph. I was _tired_. It _hurt_ to watch Michael and Lucifer go at it. It hurt to fight a war against Lucifer in the first place, and it hurt to watch Michael lock Lucifer in the Cage. It hurt to watch him waste away afterwards, and it hurt that Father wasn't even _here_ while he did. It hurt to watch you turn into this mindless, humorless robot. And maybe that hurt was born out of love, but I mostly just wanted my family back, and I couldn't be here anymore knowing that I'd never get it."

Michael was smacked with the unwelcome reminder of exactly how awful of a big brother he'd been, once again—that Gabriel had been in that much pain, and he hadn't even noticed. Dean had always prided himself on getting Sammy everything that he needed and always being there for him. When Dad had disappeared for longer than he'd said he would be gone and they'd run out of food, Dean had never let his brother starve. When his clothes were fraying or the soles of his shoes had holes in them and their dad hadn't noticed, Dean had always managed to get them replaced. He wasn't good at many things, but he _was_ good at being a big brother. When Sam was drowning in pain and anger after Jess had died, Dean had done his best, and when Dean had sold his soul, he'd been prepared to do whatever it took to make sure that Sam would be okay without him.

So yeah, the reminder hurt. Being Dean Winchester had reorganized his priorities, and being there for the people who needed him was at the top of the list, hands down. Gabriel had needed him, and he hadn't been there, and he'd never forgive himself for it.

"Bro, I told you. That isn't on you, and it never will be. It's on Dad, and Dad still hasn't done anything to make up for it." Years of being a trickster had done wonders for Gabriel's ability to interpret body language and facial expressions.

"It _is_ on me, Gabriel." He had to make his brother understand. Gabriel was the youngest, the baby, and he should have protected him. "I should've been there."

Gabriel shook his head. "Maybe I left out of love, Raphael," he said seriously. "Maybe I stayed gone because I learned how to love when I was down there. Because what we feel for Father, it isn't love, Raph. It's cold, and detached and _clinical_, and real love is nothing like it. Love _burns_, like hellfire. It hurts, but it's best hurt in the world and you'd never want it to stop. You heard Jo, when she said that being in hell for ten years was worth it, because she helped people. That's because she _loves them_, complete strangers, enough that ten years of torture is worth it to spare them pain. That's why humans are beautiful, and that's why they're better than us. Because Dean Winchester was righteous before Michael got anywhere near him, because he loved his brother enough—before Lucifer got anywhere near him—that he went to hell to bring him back. It wasn't selfless, it wasn't a sacrifice. It was selfish and codependent and unhealthy as fuck, but it was beautiful."

"Thanks," Dean muttered dryly.

"You aren't seriously going to argue with me on that?"

"No," he sighed. "I shouldn't have done it. Don't get me wrong, I'll never regret bringing Sam back, but I do regret what it did to him. I didn't really think it through, even though I _knew_ what it did to me when Dad did the same thing."

"Well, in your defence," Raphael spoke up. "Thinking things through has never really been your strong point."

Gabriel's laughter made him nearly double over, and Dean scowled. "Thanks a lot, Raph." Except… it was going to be okay. He could tell. "Hey! I have _great plans_!"

"And when has one of your plans _not_ involved stabbing something bad with your sword?" Gabriel got out through his laughter.

"Hey! I am _heaven's general_, I know how to plan a battle! Hey!" He was _not_ pouting, nor was he whining. And he wasn't hiding a smile, either, because he had just been grievously insulted in the worst possible way, and who was Gabriel, anyway, to question his tactical skills? Gabriel thought that _slow dancing aliens_ was the pinnacle of humorous genius.

**So I've had more than one request for more of the Where We Start From 'verse, so here it is. Not sure where this is actually going, plot-wise, but I think that I did well at capturing characters, at least.**


End file.
